Balcones “1” Texas Single Malt
SM17.9 2017 Aged 15mo. | 53% ABV
How Much Of Today’s Whisky Is Intentional?
Is it romanticism to suggest whisky decides how it’s going to be? Or is it vanity to suggest we make it so?
At times, it’s a challenge for me to really dial into a glass and work out what the hell I’m drinking. I don’t mean the actual distillery because, unless it’s a perfect example of a distinctive – and familiar – style, that’s folly. I mean cask type, category, profile, grain or region and other more broad concepts. Then, there are days when it’s just so clear you feel like you’re finally cracking the code. That’s usually right around the point a banana skin is thrown in and we’re left sounding like we’ve hardly wet our feet with the stuff. I like to imagine whisky is playing with us.
You may see where I’m going here, I’m suggesting that we’re not always in charge of ‘making’ whisky. Its ethereal character, its fickle nature, its portrayal of place make my fanciful side consider it not just a spirit, but something sentient, conceived of its incidental and unique elements.
As an example, let’s talk about trying to make the same whisky in different places. When it comes to the malt, there are many ‘copies’ of, let’s say, the scotch style of whisky – not because they want to copy it per se, but because they’ve been made in a traditional, conventional way with a nod to scotch, usually from malted barley. Yet there are myriad takes on the term ‘single malt’. The bottle we have in front of us today is one of the most fascinating. On the face of it, and at the outset, it’s a scotch copy; 100% malted barley, twice distilled. But you sense the whisky has other ideas and things… umm… depart somewhat.
First let’s tackle the ‘whisky’ part. If you buy this in the UK or Europe it will not say that on the label. It will simply say “Texas Single Malt”, because by SWA, and therefore EU, definitions, it isn’t whisky. They are typically sold much younger than the three years required of ‘our’ definition of whisky. Indeed, the bottle in question today proudly states it has been matured for 15 months. I’m not kidding.
Then there’s the issue of the spelling. Despite being American, it’s actually without the ‘e’, as is the desire of Balcones to use the TTB defined spelling. It’s permitted for American whisk(e)y producers to add the ‘e’ as a nod to their tradition or preference. The majority do so, but there are many exceptions. It would only be the most tiresome pedant who would correct or protest the spelling of whisky, regardless of context. I hope we try to be as accurate as possible on Dramface, but if we drop or add an errant ‘e’; relax. It doesn’t change the flavour.
What does change the flavour is the where-and-the-how of its production. Balcones outsource their malt but mash in-house. The date on this bottle would indicate it’s made fairly early on in their ‘new’ distillery in Waco, Texas, which has been operational since early 2016 – just a short drive from the original distillery founded by Chip Tate before his 2014 departure. Twice distilled in unique pairs of copper pot stills, it’s then filled into fresh American oak and, while this is clearly of huge impact to this cluster bomb of flavour spilling from tonight’s glass, it’s only part of the tale. The other is the, frankly bonkers, climate.
Located just a little right-of-centre on that very familiar outline of the state of Texas, Waco was once upon a time globally known for that horrific 1990s siege. I’m grateful that I now associate the town with a distillery and one of the seeds in the growth of a very distinctive regional style of whisky. If you’re curious about the extreme variance in the Texan climate, check Weather Spark and their focus on Waco, where they can demonstrate fluctuations not only seasonally, but daily. This is huge. I’ve been close to there. If you think the weather in the British Isles is variable, try an autumnal trip to Texas. While the daytime may have you sweltering in a vest and flip flops, the evening has you ditching your fleece for an Oodie.
Consider what this does to potent liquid as it rests in a heavily charred, active fresh oak barrel. It’s whisky maturation with the fast-forward button sellotaped down. The push-and-pull as the wood and whisky stretch and contract together takes on so much flavour in such a short space of time, that it can never be scotch-like. It’s not even attempting to be so. This, in every definable way, is American whisky. Specifically, a Texan take. Now, I’ve never tried Balcones' new-make malt spirit, but believe me, the seduction of the flavour profile you see in the notes here is so much about that short maturation in active oak. However there are elements – such as the savoury side – where you consider you must be tasting the spirit, these are so distinctive and unique, it must be so.
What we have here is not terroir; whisky is not grown. We have a product of place; its identity and character is moulded by the land, not borne of it. In whisky this is, for me, much more relevant and every bit as fascinating. It does imbue the spirit with a character, and maybe that idea of sentience.
After all, the world over, we love to call it the Water of Life, but what do we mean? That this ‘water’ is a giver of life? Like an elixir? That makes sense. Yet I like to court the idea that the water itself is alive, that it possesses life. Therefore we can summarise, I suppose, that while every inch of care is taken to make the spirit as uniquely as possible, in this context of location, the whisky is taking care of itself. What we have in the glass today can only be given life in Texas. This particular example; only in Waco. It is alive, and like nothing else on your shelf.
I’ve been lucky. I have sipped this and so many other powerful Texas whiskies in situ, and in this way been seduced by the heady and dense stack of flavours. There, with smoked and charred meats, hot days and cool nights, this liquid fits the scene perfectly. If you sip on a wee pour, you don’t need an overly vivid imagination to be whisked to a far-away outdoor scene; one of woodsmoke and sweet-and-sticky barbecues.
Malt, it is. Scotch, it is not.
Review
This bottle was bought at retail in Texas for $70 in 2018, which I think is still the price today. I have tried other bottles in the UK and I find the impact to be the same. Although one or two have been ‘lighter’ than this, there’s always a sense of “Wow! I bet this would be amazing on ice cream!”
This bottle has been open since 2020 and I save it for “How old do you think this is?” moments of hilarity with curious pals. No one has ever gotten close.
Balcones “1” Texas Single Malt Whisky 53% ABV
£65 and widespread availability
Nose
One to strap in for, lots to unpack. Okay… a little putty and linseed oil at first approach, that typical solvent acetone note a scotch drinker is sensitised to, but it soons dissipates. Waves of sweet, thick syrups swell; maple, dark honey and caramel sauce. There’s chocolate and we may debate which kind, today I’ll settle on milk, but it’s melted. It’s difficult to find fruits, but there is a sense of cooked berries, like you’re making jam. Spices take you towards the slightly savoury aspect; clove, cumin and a little cayenne. Maybe sweeter spices too, cinnamon and nutmeg. There’s moist tobacco and something almost sweaty, like an aromatic meat marinade at work. There’s chilli too - but not a hint of raw spirit.
Palate
A thick and sweet arrival coats and soothes before revealing a chilli-heat warmth. Once more, nothing raw or youthful. Stewed strawberries, caramels and chocolates swirl. There’s a heavy vanilla oiliness dowsing brown-sugar pastries and cookie dough with walnuts; I’ve had ‘dusty’ experiences with this whisky in the past, but not from this bottle. Cocktail cherries and chopped sweet chillies spice up a long and distracting finish. The blender’s glass is quickly empty. I didn’t think to add water. Tighten the belts and go in again I think..
The Dregs
Heady and dense is a good way to describe this. While it’s bright and communicative, it isn’t fresh or particularly fruity. It’s a dark, syrupy and oily experience that will distract you and your company at every sip. It may also expand your perception of whisky and give you lots of reference points of what that heavy char and active fresh oak bring to a bold spirit. It won’t be to everyone’s taste, there’s an investment required here, some up-front notes need to dissipate - especially to dial out what scotch drinkers sometimes perceive as solvents or acetone notes, but dissipate they do. To compare this to other malts or other styles or whisky is fun, but it’s very much its own thing and a great example of American and Texas whisky. It’s like comparing our football to theirs. Don’t get hung up on definitions, this isn’t simply a different league, it’s a whole other sport.
Score: 7/10
Hamish’s Review
I was immediately drawn into the liquid colour and dark, ominous bottle labelling used by Balcones for this Texas Single Malt. So enticing and such a young age for a whiskey at barrel strength, I had to try it. Previously, I’d heard a lot of great things about Balcones from the likes of the Whiskey Tribe YouTube channel and how their liquid evolves and develops within the hot climate of Texas! Good to find a few expressions available online at some common spirit retailers.
Nose
Dusty wood. Bags of charred oak. Spice, spice and more spice. I’m picking up some ginger and a mountain of cinnamon (right up my street!). Hints of black tea and that evolves into some sweet elements. Think of black English breakfast tea with a few teaspoons of white sugar. Some cherry cola in there. Toasted malt and oat biscuits drowning in a thick vanilla custard. Back end rounds off with soft fudge and butterscotch syrup.
Palate
You’re just bombarded with sweetness at the beginning. This is high ABV, but that doesn’t come across whatsoever. No heat or hot pepper on the initial taste. The wood from the nose is there, and it’s quite heavy. It could be a bit overwhelming for some, but I’m enjoying it. The wood lingers for an age which turns a touch bitter and launches into that spice we had on the nose. The texture is delightfully enjoyable, complimenting the initial taste in such a delicious manner.
With most American whiskies, here comes the vanilla and honey. I’m picking out a touch of smoke, which is surprisingly nice. It reminds me of retrohaling a nice cigar. The tip of the tongue brings out some tobacco, and chewy fudge. Tasty. Mouthfeel is heavy and a complete tongue coating. Mostly that wood I described and a touch astringent. This is fantastic stuff.
The Dregs
You think you know whiskies from the US, but this just blows those assumptions away so much. For such a young whiskey, the humidity and temperate climate dramatically impacts this Texas liquid in a unique way. Bags of flavour, sweetness and spice on the nose and palate. The sweet and wood elements are still lasting, it feels like it’ll be here all week. Like I said some of this might be a little off putting or overwhelming for some, but I love it. One generous pour of this dram is enough for an evening tasting, which leaves plenty in the bottle to go back to and share. My curiosity into American whiskies (single malts and bourbons) is elevated even more with this dram. I’m very eager to try more from Balcones and further afield in the American single malt category. I still can’t believe the strength of this liquid and how approachable each sip is. You just keep going back for more. Delectable stuff.
Score: 7/10 HF
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. WMc
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